


My Own Sinking Ship

by hannasus



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 4x16, 4x20, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apologies, Break Up, Episode Related, F/M, Makeup Sex, Missing Scene, Post-finale Speculation, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-07 16:05:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6812515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannasus/pseuds/hannasus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of prompt fics about Oliver and Felicity's breakup.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. things you didn’t say at all

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt: "things you didn’t say at all," a missing scene for episode 4x16, "Broken Hearts."

_Don’t go._

That was the first thing Oliver should have said when Felicity started for the door. But he was so amazed by the fact that she was walking—walking! The implant had worked!—that by the time he realized that she was _walking out on him_ he hadn’t even been able to form a coherent thought, much less words. And then it was too late.

_I love you._

That was the second the thing he should have said. Maybe even the first. Because it’s the most important. He always tried to make it the first thing he said to her every morning and the last thing he whispered every night. But at the moment when it mattered most—when she was walking away from him—he hadn’t managed to say it at all.

_I’m sorry._

He should have said at least this much to her. In fact, this was definitely the first thing he should have said. Because he’d hurt her. He’d  _betrayed_ her. And he _was_ sorry. But he hadn’t told her and maybe she doesn’t even know how sorry he is. Maybe if she knew she wouldn’t have packed their life up into boxes.

Maybe if he’d said _I’m sorry_ he wouldn’t be standing here now bleeding out in front of her while she cheerfully explains how she’s worked out a system to maximize the efficiency of the moving process.

Except she isn’t cheerful, any more than he’s okay. She’s pretending. Deflecting. Distracting herself with a mundane task so she doesn’t have to think about how their lives have come crashing down around them. So she doesn’t have to talk to him about anything real.

He wonders what would happen if he just broke down right now, right in front of her, and begged her not to leave him. Would it work? Would she even consider staying? Or would it just magnify her disgust with him?

What if he tells her he’s sorry? Would it make any difference? Or is it too late?

He could tell her he loves her. But he’s almost positive that wouldn’t make a difference at this point. He wonders if she still loves him. Or if he destroyed that when he destroyed everything else.

She’s still chirping away about the moving boxes and he knows in a few minutes he’ll have to leave and he doesn’t have any idea when he’ll see her again or get to talk to her.

This could be his last chance. He has to say something, if only to make her stop talking about the damn moving boxes.

Oliver takes a breath. Opens his mouth. “I hired a mover,” he hears himself say.

Because he is a coward.

He’s going to lose her. He already has, probably. And the worst part about it is that he deserves to lose her. Maybe that’s why he can’t seem to do anything about it.


	2. things you said too quietly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: "things you said too quietly," a missing scene for episode 4x20, "Genesis."

Felicity jumped when Oliver’s hand touched her shoulder, her heart pounding double-time in her chest.

“Hey,” he said gently. “You okay?”

She forced a smile and nodded as he slid into the seat across from her on the Palmer Tech jet. “Yup, great.”

“I know you don’t like flying,” he said, his brows drawing together.

She shrugged and turned her face to the window beside her, pretending to fiddle with the window shade. “It’s not so bad in a fancy corporate jet.”

“Still,” Oliver said.

Felicity didn’t say anything. Let him think she was anxious because she didn’t like flying, and not because she was afraid she’d made a huge mistake by coming on this trip to Hub City with him.

She’d foolishly thought it’d be okay. That they’d made it past the most difficult part of the breakup and were at the point where they could finally be around each other without it being awkward and terrible. That they could go to Hub City and work together like they used to before they were a couple and it would be perfectly fine. Just like old times.

Only she’d sort of forgotten what the old times were actually like. How on edge she always used to be around Oliver, how hyper-aware she was of everything he did. How much energy it took to pretend that being around him didn’t affect her. That she wasn’t aching for him with every fiber of her being. That he hadn’t cracked her heart in two and stomped on the pieces.

So yeah, this whole trip to Hub City was turning out to be a lot harder than she’d expected. Not least of all because there was no one else with them to act as a buffer, which she probably should have thought about before insisting on coming with him.

This wasn’t like working together in the lair with the rest of the team, which she’d been managing just fine the last few days. When she was busy working and there were other people around it was easy to put her feelings on hold. But this was just the two of them, alone on a plane together with nothing else to do. Trapped in a narrow metal tube hurtling through the sky at 600 miles per hour, 40,000 feet above the ground.

 _Great,_ now she was actually making herself anxious about the flight, which was not helping matters any.

“Would a drink help?” Oliver offered.

Felicity shook her head. “I already took something, I’m just waiting for it to kick in.”

He nodded. And then he got up went to the back of the plane. When he came back he was carrying a blanket. “Here,” he said, handing it to her before sitting back down.

“Thanks,” she muttered, her voice breaking a little as she clutched the soft acrylic throw.

God, she hated this. She hated it _so much._

Not just because it reminded her of that awful flight to Nanda Parbat, and everything that happened after, which was just—yeah, _so_ not going there right now.

But because she didn’t _want_ a stupid blanket, she wanted Oliver’s hand to hold. She wanted his arms around her and his lips pressing kisses into her skin and his breath tickling her ear as he whispered that everything was going to be okay.

She wanted _so badly_ to have that back. But even more than that she wanted to go back to being able to believe that everything _would_ be okay so long as they were together.

There was a part of her that hated him for taking that away from her.

But she couldn’t go back, not ever. Couldn’t unlearn the harsh lessons she’d learned. That being together wasn’t enough. And Oliver telling her he loved her wasn’t enough, because his actions told a different story than his words. No matter how much he _said_ he loved her, he didn’t love her enough, not as much as she loved him. He didn’t love her enough to stop hiding huge, major developments in his life from her. Not enough to trust her and let her in. Not enough to be there for her in the way she needed him to be.

So yeah, part of her hated him for hurting her. And a whole other part of her still loved him desperately and wanted him anyway, despite it all. Which only made her hate herself for being so weak. Which, in turn, made her hate him a little more. The whole thing was just one big self-perpetuating cycle of suck, basically.

And now she was stuck on this stupid airplane and Oliver was _right there_. And he knew her so well—well enough to know that she was anxious, and that having a blanket to hold onto would make her feel better.

It wasn’t _fair._

Felicity stared down at the blanket in her lap and fiercely blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall. Because she _could not_ let herself cry. Not right now. Not in front of Oliver. 

“Felicity,” he said, and the hesitation in his voice filled her with dread.

Because this was it, the moment she’d been trying to avoid. They were stuck on this plane together and now he was going to try to _talk_ to her about their breakup.

She’d managed to put it off up until now. At first Oliver hadn’t really pushed her to talk to him, probably because he thought if he gave her some space she’d change her mind. But then there’d been Cupid to deal with, and then Felicity had been so upset after that awful fake wedding that she’d walked away from the team. And then Laurel … yeah.

So the two of them hadn’t really talked since the breakup—not _about_ the breakup, anyway. But now they were alone on this plane together and there was no getting out of it.

“I wanted to thank you for coming with me,” Oliver said.

Felicity exhaled the breath she’d been holding and looked up at him. “You don’t have to thank me, Oliver. We’re on the same team, this is what we do.”

He pressed his lips together. “I’m just—I’m glad you’re back on the team. When you left I—” He stopped, shaking his head slightly before continuing. “I just know how important the team is to you, and I didn’t want to be responsible for ruining that, too.”

She turned her face back to the window and didn’t say anything. What was she supposed to say? If he wanted her to tell him he hadn’t ruined anything—well, she couldn’t. She _wouldn’t._

“I know this probably isn’t the best time,” he went. “But I’m afraid I won’t get another chance to say this—”

“Oliver,” Felicity sighed, because this defeatist attitude of his was exactly why she’d felt the need to come along in the first place.

“I need you to know,” he continued, undeterred, “how sorry I am for not telling you about William.”

“You didn’t just not tell me,” she shot back. “You _lied._ ” If he wanted to do this, then fine, they were _doing this._ “And it wasn’t just one lie, either. It was _hundreds_ of lies, Oliver. You were going back and forth to Central City for _months,_ and you kept on choosing to lie to me over and over again.”

His eyes fluttered briefly closed, and he nodded.

Felicity twisted the edge of the blanket in her hands, taking out her anger and resentment on it. “All this time I thought we were together, that we were _partners._ And it turned out it was all just a lie.”

“It wasn’t—”

“It _was,_ ” she insisted, her face growing hot with rage. “You weren’t really with me because part of you was off in Central City with your son the whole time.”

“Felicity,” he said, his voice coming out strangled and pleading.

She could tell he wanted to argue with her, but he didn’t have the words. There weren’t any words he could say because she was right, and deep down he knew it, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“When you asked me to marry you,” she said, the words tasting bitter on her tongue, “it was a lie. Because at the same time you were offering to make a life with me, you were trying to figure out how to make a life with the son you were hiding from me. And when I was in the hospital—” She stopped and swallowed, because this was the worst part, the part that hurt the most. “When I was in the hospital after the shooting, the whole time I was recovering, you were lying to me. I let you see me at my weakest, my most vulnerable, and you were just _pretending_.”

“Felicity, no.” His face was twisted in anguish, but she didn’t feel any sympathy for him because it was only a pale reflection of the pain he’d caused her. “You were always my first priority.”

She shook her head. “I was your first _obligation._ But everything you did was tainted by all the lies you told me in order to keep William a secret. You hid your heart from me, Oliver. You didn’t trust me the way I trusted you.”

“I wanted to,” he protested weakly.

Felicity huffed bitterly. “Ever since I’ve known you you’ve been trying to push me away. I’m supposed to be smart, I probably should have gotten the message before now. Because it never fails, as soon as things start to get hard, your first reaction is to shut me out. And I can’t keep making excuses for you.” A traitorous tear spilled down her cheek—so much for not crying in front of Oliver—and she reached up to swipe it away. “I can’t keep letting you hurt me over and over again.”

“I’m sorry,” Oliver said, his own eyes red and glistening. “I’m so sorry, Felicity.”

“I know you are,” she said flatly. “But that doesn’t mean I can forgive you.”

He looked down at his lap and nodded, his shoulders slumped in resignation. He exhaled a long, shaky breath, and then he said: “I never should have asked you to marry me.”

It felt like being punched in the stomach. He was _right,_ but that didn’t make it any less painful to actually hear him say the words.

“When I put that ring on your finger,” Oliver said, rubbing his own ring finger absently, “it was supposed to be a promise that I would always be on your side, that I would always choose you over everyone else.” He seemed to realize what he was doing with his finger and stopped, clutching the armrests with both hands instead. “But when Samantha gave me an ultimatum, I didn’t choose you. I told myself that I was choosing William, that it was okay because I was doing it to protect my son … but I realize now that it wasn’t him I was protecting, it was myself.” The muscles in his jaw clenched and he shook his head. “If I’d really wanted to protect William, the first thing I should have done was tell you the truth and ask for your help.”

It was exactly what Felicity had wanted to scream at him from the moment she found out about William. Who better to help him protect his son’s identity than her? What better way to keep William safe than to let her set up security protocols to monitor him and his mother remotely? If only Oliver had let her help him, maybe Darhk wouldn’t have been able to kidnap the boy in the first place.

But instead he’d kept William’s existence a secret from her, the one person best equipped to help him. And it clearly wasn’t just a matter of not being able to tell _anyone,_ because he’d confided in both Thea _and_ Barry.

Malcolm mother-flipping Merlyn had known about the boy, for God’s sake! And _still_ Oliver hadn’t seen fit to tell her. Which could only mean that the reason he didn’t want to tell her had something to do with _her_. With how he felt about her.

She felt vindicated, hearing him admit it finally, but there was no satisfaction in it. It didn’t change anything that happened. It couldn’t undo any of the damage. The hollow place inside of her couldn’t be filled by a mea culpa.

“I fucked up,” Oliver said quietly. “After all this time I guess I still have trouble trusting people. Even you, the most important person in my life.”

Felicity had to look away so he wouldn’t see how much it affected her to hear him call her that. It was even worse because she knew that it was true. He did love her, more than he’d ever loved anyone. And it still wasn’t enough.

It made her sad for him, that this was who he was. It made her sad for both of them, that no matter how hard he seemed to try, he couldn’t manage to grow past it. He just kept making the same mistakes over and over again.

“Anyway,” Oliver said, clearing his throat. “I deserve everything that’s happened. But  _you_ don’t, Felicity. And I want you to know that I’m sorry you had to pay for my mistakes. That I ruined everything we worked so hard to build together, that I ruined our happiness. I offered you something, and then I took it away again, and I don’t expect your forgiveness.”

Felicity choked down a sob. If only he knew how much she _wanted_ to forgive him. She still loved him as much as ever and she wanted him back so, so badly. She wanted to be able to trust him with her heart again. She just couldn’t. Not anymore.

“I know this isn’t easy for you,” he said. “Being here with me like this. But I’m really glad you came. I don’t want you to feel like you have to give up the team because of me. I want us to be able to keep working together.”

She looked up at him, finally, blinking away tears. “I want that too.”

The truth was, she couldn’t imagine her life without Oliver in it. She’d tried. When she quit the team she’d tried to convince herself that she could make a life for herself that didn’t involve Oliver Queen or the Green Arrow. But even before Laurel’s death she’d been regretting her decision to walk away. She would have ended up coming back anyway. Eventually.

 “Good,” he said, giving her a tentative smile.

It melted some of the ice that had formed around her heart. She’d always had a weakness for his smiles, and there was something so guileless and hopeful about this one that she couldn’t help smiling back.

Maybe she would be better off without him, but she couldn’t bring herself to find out. She needed this in her life. She needed _him_. Even if he couldn’t be what she needed him to be, she could never give him up completely. He would always own a piece of her heart.

Oliver pushed himself to his feet. “I’m gonna go sit up front and give you some space.” Which was … incredibly considerate, actually. He really did know her better than anyone. “You sure there’s not anything I can get you?” he asked.

“No,” Felicity said. “I’m okay.” And she was. Weirdly, she felt slightly better, now that they’d talked things out. It was a little easier to look at him—easier to be around him—without all that unspoken resentment hanging in the air between them.

Knowing that he really did understand how badly he’d hurt her and accepted responsibility for it made it easier to start the healing process. Made it almost seem possible to envision a future where she might be able to forgive him.

He smiled again. “I’m glad.”

“I miss you,” she whispered as he turned to go.

He stopped and glanced back at her. “Did you say something?”

“Nope,” she said. “Nothing at all.”


	3. things you said at 1 a.m.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note I've raised the rating for this chapter. I promised after all the breakup angst last time I’d get them back together, so ... 
> 
> Based on the prompt: "things you said at 1 a.m." Set vaguely in the aftermath of the finale events? Whatever they may turn out to be.

“Don’t go.”

Oliver froze with his hand on the doorknob. It was late, and he was so exhausted he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. He turned back around slowly, his mouth going dry. “What did you say?”

He’d driven Felicity back to the loft and walked her inside to make sure she was okay, but he was painfully aware this wasn’t his home anymore, so he’d only lingered long enough to make sure she didn’t need anything before bidding her goodnight.

Felicity took a step toward him. “I said, _don’t go._ ”

Mutely, he reached behind him and pushed the door closed, not even daring to breathe.

She closed the distance between them until she was standing in front of him—close enough that her breasts grazed the front of his shirt—and gazed up at him through her lashes.

Oliver stared at her like a possum caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. “Felicity?”

“Oliver,” she said softly, reaching up and running her hand over his chest. “I don’t want you to go.”

Her touch shot through him like a jolt of electricity and his eyes fluttered closed as he struggled to suppress a shiver.  

This was almost certainly a bad idea. They’d been running nonstop from crisis to crisis for days and neither of them were on particularly steady footing right now. A lot had happened in a short period of time—most of it terrible—and there’d been no time to process any of it. And now it was finally over and they’d won, but there was no sense of triumph in it, no catharsis.

Felicity had to be feeling shaken and vulnerable right now, and it made sense that after everything she’d been through she’d seek out a familiar source of comfort—i.e., _him_. But that didn’t make it a good idea.

Not that Oliver didn’t want to comfort her. Because he did. _So much._ It would be far too easy to let go of his self-control and sweep her into his arms right now. It was basically all he’d wanted to do—all he’d been able to think about—for weeks.

But he could tell from the way she was looking at him that it was more than just a hug she was looking for right now. Her pupils were wide and dark with desire, her cheeks and chest flushed, and _God,_ it’d been so long since she’d looked at him with that kind of longing it made his knees feel wobbly and his arms tingle with the need to reach out for her.

But what would happen afterward? Did she only want a few minutes of temporary solace in a moment of weakness or did she want him back for good? If he gave what she wanted would she regret it as soon as it was over? Would it make things even worse between them, causing her to push him further away?

Would he be able to survive losing her again if he fell into her arms now?

“Oliver, _please._ ” Her hand ghosted over his cheek and wound around the back of his neck, pulling his head down as she strained towards him. “I miss you so much.”

It was the anguish in her expression that was his undoing. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears, her faced lined with unhappiness, and it stripped away his resolve. He couldn’t bear to see her in pain; he _needed_ to comfort her.

Their mouths collided as he wrapped his arms around her. Hot tears burned his eyes at the familiar taste of her mouth. She was so sweet and bright and perfect. So _Felicity_. God help him, he was addicted to her, and he would never not crave this.

Her fingernails dug into his scalp, urging him on greedily as she opened herself to him. Oliver let out a breathy moan as her tongue plunged into his mouth, and he held her tighter, crushing her against his chest until they were melting into each other.

He didn’t care anymore if it was a mistake. He didn’t care if she changed her mind tomorrow. All he cared about was _this_ , right now. Nothing else mattered.

Felicity pushed her thigh between his legs, grinding up against him, and he dropped his hands to her ass to tug her closer. His cock swelled against her at the increased friction, straining against his pants, aching with need.

He lifted her up off the floor and she wrapped her legs around him eagerly. Their kisses were desperate and messy as he carried her to the couch and laid her down. She looked so beautiful, stretched out beneath him, it made his eyes water. He wanted to devour her, wanted to leave his mark on every inch of her body.

Oliver bent over her, sliding her skirt up her thighs to expose the black lace thong underneath. His mouth watered at the sight of it, but Felicity surged upright, grabbing for the fly of his pants and yanking him towards her. He groaned when her fingers brushed against throbbing cock, and he sealed his mouth over hers again, reaching between her legs.

Her whole body shuddered when he found her clit, and she whimpered as he slid a finger inside of her. Christ, she was so wet, so primed for him.

“Yesssss,” she hissed, grinding against his hand as it moved between her legs. “Oh my God, yes.” She was still fumbling with his pants, trying to push them off his hips even as she writhed in pleasure beneath him.

When she finally managed to free his erection she hummed in satisfaction and wrapped her hand around him, squeezing firmly. Oliver groaned with pleasure as she stroked him. It was too much, though, he wasn’t going to be able to hold out like this, so he wrenched himself away and shoved his pants down to his knees before shifting his weight to bring his cock to her entrance.

Felicity reached between her legs and pushed her thong out of the way with one hand while she guided him inside of her with the other. He slid in easily, shuddering as her slick warmth enveloped him. _Jesus,_ she felt so good. He’d missed this so fucking much.

She let out a soft cry as he filled her up, and threw her head back, her eyes fluttering closed. he stilled, appreciating the beauty of this moment, trying to memorize the way she looked beneath him in case it was the last time.

Felicity’s eyes opened, meeting his heated gaze with an expression he couldn’t decipher. And then her hands were on his ass, her fingernails digging into his skin. “Fuck me,” she ordered, arching up into him.

Oliver groaned and dropped his his head down onto her shoulder. Bracing himself on one elbow while his other hand grasped her hip, he pulled almost all the way out and slammed back into her, just the way he knew she liked it.

“Yes,” she gasped. “Just like that.”

He fucked her with everything he had, his hips slapping against her franticly, and she matched her movements to his, urging him on, panting his name. They were both so fevered, boiling over with pent up desire, it didn’t take long before he could feel her straining beneath him, feel her muscles tensing in anticipation.

He shoved his hand between them to stroke her clit, and her cries grew louder, building until finally her back bowed and she came with a hoarse shout.

Oliver moaned as she pulsed around him. He quickened his movements, losing all rhythm in his frenzy, thrusting recklessly as he chased his own need. He came hard and fast, shuddering as his orgasm overtook him.

It left him feeling weak and shattered, and he slumped against her bonelessly, gasping for breath. Only as his vision cleared and he came back to himself did he realize that she was crying.

“Felicity?” A spike of cold fear shot through him as he pulled out of her, shifting so he could see her face. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry, I thought it was what you wanted.”

“It was,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s not that.”

He reached up to brush the tears off her cheek. “Then what?”

She turned into him, burying her face in his chest and curling her body into his. Oliver wrapped his arms around her and held her as she sobbed against him. He stroked his hand over her back, gently murmuring reassurances until her breath finally stopped hitching.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, pulling away from.

“Hey, it’s okay, you don’t have to be sorry,” he said. But then he saw the look on her face, and it sent a coil of fear through his insides.

She was going to push him away. He’d been right, she’d only been looking for temporary solace, and now he was going to lose her all over again.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she said quietly.

“Do what?” he asked, bracing himself.

She rolled away from him, onto her back, and reached up to wipe the tears from her face. “Let you in again. Forgive you.”

Oliver nodded numbly. His limbs felt leaden, like they’d been filled with cement. He was lying there with his pants around his knees and his dick literally _and_ figuratively hanging out, getting his heart broken all over again, and he’d never felt more foolish or ashamed in his life. Because _he’d_ done this. He’d brought it on himself, and it was nothing more than he deserved, but that didn’t make it hurt any less—if anything it made it even more painful.

“Right,” he said, summoning the last, pathetic ounce of his pride and yanking his pants back up. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Oliver,” she breathed, her fingers closing on his arm.

He froze instantly at her touch. Their eyes met, and what he saw gave him a sliver of hope, because she wasn’t just looking at him with reproach or regret—although those were certainly present—there was sympathy in her eyes, too, and love. She _loved_ him, even now.

His breath caught. “Felicity,” he whispered helplessly.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” she repeated, “but I have to try because …” She paused, taking an unsteady breath. “I don’t think I can live without you. I _need_ you, Oliver, I can’t bear to face another day without you.”

He choked down a sob and then he was reaching for her, his eyes swimming with tears as he pulled her in for a kiss.

“I love you,” she breathed against his lips.

“Oh, God, Felicity,” he whispered brokenly, his lips trembling against hers. “I’m so sorry.”

She pulled away, regarding him seriously. “I know you are, but I don’t need you to be sorry, Oliver. I need you to be _better._ ”

“I will be,” he promised solemnly. “I’ll never hurt you again. I swear it.”

Felicity nodded and pressed her forehead against his. It felt like absolution, like he’d been granted a reprieve from a death sentence. She was giving him another chance and he wasn’t going to screw it up this time.

He was going to do whatever it took to hold onto this. For the rest of his life.

Oliver inhaled a long breath, the first unencumbered breath he’d taken in weeks. His lips found hers again, and he kissed her softly, reverently, trying to pour all of his devotion into it. “I love you,” he murmured. “I love you so much.”

“Prove it,” she whispered back.

He would. For as long as she was willing to give him the chance. And he was going to start right now.

He scooped her up into his arms and carried her upstairs to their bed. They made love again, slowly and tenderly this time, savoring each other and the regained connection they’d almost lost forever. Afterwards, Oliver held her in his arms, and they drifted into a deep, blissful sleep.

When he woke in the morning it was in his own bed again, with Felicity still in his arms, her skin soft under his fingertips and her scent filling up his senses. He kissed the top of her head and she made a delicate snuffling sound, shifting towards him in her sleep.

He burrowed his face into her hair and closed his eyes against the sunlight streaming in through the cracks in the blinds, smiling to himself. It was the start of a new day, the first day of the rest of their lives.

He’d found his way back home, finally.


End file.
